“Disguised yourself!--ha! ha! Behold the world’s charity! You fly from some danger, some pursuit, disguised--you, who hold yourself guiltless--I do the same, and you hold me criminal--a robber, perhaps--a murderer it may be! I will tell you what I am: I am a son of Fortune, an adventurer; I live by my wits--so do poets and lawyers, and all the charlatans of the world; I am a charlatan--a chameleon. ‘Each man in his time plays many parts:’ I play any part in which Money, the Arch-Manager, promises me a livelihood. Are you satisfied?” “Perhaps,” answered the boy, sadly, “when I know more of the world, I shall understand you better. Strange--strange, that you, out of all men, should have been kind to me in distress!” “Not at all strange. Ask the beggar whom he gets the most pence from--the fine lady in her carriage--the beau smelling of eau de Cologne? Pish! the people nearest to being beggars themselves keep the beggar alive. You were friendless, and the man who has all earth for a foe befriends you. It is the way of the world, sir,--the way of the world. Come, eat while you can; this time next year you may have no beef to your bread.” Thus masticating and moralising at the same time, Mr. Gawtrey at last finished a breakfast that would have astonished the whole Corporation of London; and then taking out a large old watch, with an enamelled back--doubtless more German than its master--he said, as he lifted up his carpet-bag, “I must be off--tempos fugit, and I must arrive just in time to nick the vessels. Shall get to Ostend, or Rotterdam, safe and snug; thence to Paris. How my pretty Fan will have grown! Ah, you don’t know Fan--make you a nice little wife one of these days! Cheer up, man, we shall meet again. Be sure of it; and hark ye, that strange place, as you call it, where I took you,--you can find it again?” “Not I.” “Here, then, is the address. Whenever you want me, go there, ask to see Mr. Gregg--old fellow with one eye, you recollect--shake him by the hand just so--you catch the trick--practise it again. No, the forefinger thus, that’s right. Say ‘blater,’ no more--‘blater;’--stay, I will write it down for you; and then ask for William Gawtrey’s direction. He will give it you at once, without questions--these signs understood; and if you want money for your passage, he will give you that also, with advice into the bargain. Always a warm welcome with me. And so take care of yourself, and good-bye. I see my chaise is at the door.” As he spoke, Gawtrey shook the young man’s hand with cordial vigour, and strode off to his chaise, muttering, “Money well laid out--fee money; I shall have him, and, Gad, I like him,--poor devil!” CHAPTER V. “He is a cunning coachman that can turn well in a narrow room.” Old Play: from Lamb’s Specimens. “Here are two pilgrims, And neither knows one footstep of the way.” HEYWOOD’s Duchess of Suffolk, Ibid.